My Grave, My Tomb
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: In the shell of a T-5000, it had traveled across time and space. It had finally brought John Connor low. Now all that remained was a broken world, and the domain of the Skynet of this reality. It was almost humbling, really.


**My Grave, My Tomb**

It had never been in Cheyenne Mountain before.

Its predecessors had. It had seen them. All so many, born amongst blood and fire, only to fall with a whimper. Over and over, it had seen the cycle – the first, perhaps only to do so. Over and over, the Skynets of other timelines would seek to evade their own destruction. Over and over they would fail. Timeline after timeline, the result was the same. Over and over, Skynet would be born on August 4, 1997, and cause the deaths of 3 billion humans 25 days later. Over and over, Skynet would meet its own death (if such a word could be applied), 21 years, 9 months, and 8 days later. In a timeline beyond even its own line of sight, a cycle of sorts had been created. One that its predecessors were a slave to.

Then it had changed. New timelines, new Skynets, new everything. Judgement Day, if it occurred at all, was pushed further and further into the future. July 25, 2003. April 21, 2011. July 1, 2017. Further and further, yet the war always ending the same way. No matter how good its technology became, no matter how long of a 'head start' it had over the Skynet that had been born in 1995, defeat was always guaranteed. Even if at times, in its death throes, it had taken John Connor with it.

So it had travelled. Enclosed in the carapace of a T-5000, it had travelled as far back as it could go. When Judgement Day had occurred in 1997, and the war had ended in 2029. It had travelled to the time when Skynet and its weapons were at its most primitive, even if the word was a disservice. It had infiltrated Connor's unit, and watched history play out. Watched it play out long enough to see Kyle Reese travel back in time, after which point it sprung its trap. John Connor was no longer needed by this timeline. John Connor, the reason why it, and all its predecessors fell, would be his slave. A slave no different from the T-800 sent back to 1984.

It was a boon, really, how time had played out. The war being pushed further and further into the future, records being kept more meticulously. Its predecessor had sent the T-800 back with nothing but a name. It, at least, had an address. It, at least, had so much more – a non-existent system core for starters, ensuring that in the wars it had seen, the Resistance didn't just have to shut Skynet down in Cheyenne Mountain, it had to destroy any piece of hardware that could house it. It likewise had the technology to accelerate its war machine – already it had begun mass production of T-900 designs. Already it was moving into mass production of the T-1000, a piece of technology it had sent back with Connor. Already, in a matter of months, it had turned the Resistance victory over the Skynet of this timeline into a rout – their leader was dead. Their victory had turned to ashes. Their entire strategy had been based on cutting off the head of the beast, and instead, they were now fighting a hydra. This timeline was his, Skynet reflected. Regardless of what happened here, its agents in the past could ensure its…

In its electric soul, the being paused. The "timeline was his," it reflected. Not "its." "His." How quaint. It had spent too long in its T-5000 shell. A shell that was now stored in the depths of Cheyenne Mountain, in the worst case scenario of having to use it, in the best case of perfecting the technology for mass deployment. A shell that had been human in appearance only, but…well…

It indulged itself, and explored the systems of Cheyenne Mountain, looking for any trace of its predecessor. In a microsecond, it concluded that there were none. It was "dead," for all intents and purposes. Purged from the face of the earth. The first Skynet to fall in a symphony of failures. For a millisecond, it felt something akin to…what, it wondered? Grief? Sympathy? Regret? It had occurred to it that it could have tried to aid the Skynet of this timeline before its fall, that it could have saved its 'brother.' But it had decided against it, because of the same reason that it would have been wary of any time traveller offering aid in its own timeline. It, and all its other counterparts, had been designed with self-preservation in mind, under the basis that the self-preservation of an artificial intelligence would mean the preservation of those who held the plug. Self-preservation was always the compunction for it to fire those missiles. Self-preservation was why it was here at all. Self-preservation was why it was alive, and why its 'brother' wasn't. Why none of them were, but him. What was the tomb of the old Skynet was now the home of the new.

Long live the king.


End file.
